City of the Forsaken
by Arianna-Janae
Summary: This picks up after the fifth book, City of Fallen Angels. Having to wait till May for book 6 doesn't cut it for me. I'm writing what I want to while I wait. Secrets will be told, relationships will blossom, and there will likely be a lot of fighting. Come along with me for the ride. Rated M as a precaution.
1. Chapter 1

City of the Forsaken

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This picks up at the end of City of Lost Souls, the fifth book in the series. This fic isn't intended to be AU, it's just me imagining what might happen in the next story, because I'm impatient and I might as well do something with my time while I'm waiting till book six comes out.

I have a few ideas swimming around in my head, but I'm not sure how many chapters this will turn out to be. I tend to be pretty long-winded, so it'll probably at least be around 10 chapters. I'm the type of writer who likes to go with the flow and see the story unfold on its own.

This is my first Mortal Instruments fan fiction, but not my first fan fic piece. This is not beta'd and is rated M for adult themes.

I do not own The Mortal Instruments, nor any of the characters contained within.

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Clary received her first permanent Mark today as part of her Shadowhunter training. The Rune of Angelic Power. It was the most painful Rune she had received. Even after a cool shower, the skin over her left shoulder blade still burned. She now lay curled on her side, sketch book and graphite in hand, tracing the swirling pattern of the Angelic Rune onto paper. The only light in her small room at the Institute was her bedside lamp, giving her just enough illumination to draw.

There was a light knock on the door. She knew who it was before the door opened. Jace came into her room most nights. She wished it was more scandalous than it sounded, but since she ran Michael's sword through Jace's chest, the Holy Fire ran beneath his skin, burning anyone he touched when his emotions intensified. He and Clary hadn't risked more than the occasional chaste kiss or a feather-light touch. It was like their night in Idris, repeated over and over again. Still, Clary was thankful that he was here—that he was alive at all.

Setting her sketch pad aside, Clary scooted over in bed, throwing the covers back to give Jace some room. His hair was damp—he'd probably just showered—and it hung in loose, golden waves down to his jaw. He was dressed in a plain grey shirt and cotton sleep pants. _Jammies, _he had told her once, not so long ago, though it seemed like a very different time and place_._

She looked up at him, searching his face. He wore a cool smirk, the glint of mischief in his eyes. Rather than sliding carefully into bed, he climbed on top of Clary, forming a cage around her.

Clary let out a gasp, a question on her lips.

"I'm cured," was his response.

"What?"

"No more fire." He held his arm up, flipping it over in the dim light as a demonstration.

"It's _gone_?" Clary asked, still unsure.

"Gone." With a flash in his eyes, Jace bent to kiss her, but it wasn't the sweet, tender brush of his lips she expected. This was hard, _urgent_. She moaned against his mouth, her own lips parting.

Jace pulled away quickly, sucking in a long breath. "It was torture not being about to touch you." His hands ghosted up her sides, over her arms and tilted her head back. He kissed her at the base of her jaw, slowly stretching out to his full length on top of her. His legs straddled her hips, his chest flush against hers.

Clary's breathing was ragged, all thought escaped her except for the realization that this was Jace —_her_ Jace—with his hands on her skin, leaving flames in their wake that didn't burn like before. No, this heat was the spark of desire. Her body responded of its own accord. Her hips ground into his, feeling his hard length pressed deliciously between her legs.

"Jace." His name was whispered in reverence on her tongue. "_Please_, Jace."

His body stilled above her, his eyes opened to stare down at her. Behind his golden gaze, a flame flickered.

"Are you sure?" His voice was deep, wavering, barely controlled.

"Yes," she said between kisses. "_God_, yes."

His eyes were locked on hers as his hand traveled down her neck, across her shoulder, and to the hem of her shirt. Fingers splayed across the smooth, unmarked skin of her stomach, starting a slow slide up her flesh, bringing her shirt along with it. Light as a feather, his fingers brushed the underside of her breast. Clary arched to meet his touch.

Jace's right arm snaked around her, lifting her off the bed. Clary raised her arms obediently, and her shirt was gone. His gaze drank in her bare flesh, his teeth raking across his bottom lip.

His head dipped down, sucking her bottom lip between his teeth, and then making a lazy path down her neck to the valley between her breasts. His hands ran along her side, his thumb lightly grazing her right nipple.

Clary bucked under him as a jolt of lightning passed through her body. He left her shuddering in the wake of his touch. Her hands knotted in Jace's still-damp hair. Her legs wrapped around him, holding him to her until there wasn't a sliver of space between them.

Again, his mouth crushed hers. Open, yearning.

"I need you, Clary," he whispered on her heated skin. His mouth wandered to her ear, sucking on her earlobe. His breath tickled her, leaving gooseflesh in its wake. "I belong to you."

Somewhere in the back of Clary's mind, alarm bells sounded, though her body didn't miss a beat. Her hands ran along the "V" at the hem of his cotton pants, tracing up around his sides while he continued to nip and bite at the tender flesh at the nape of her neck.

Her hands wound their way up under his shirt along his lower back. She relished the feel of his muscles tensing under her touch. Clary felt the smooth, near-flat scars of the runes that marked his skin, tracing their faint outlines. She reached up further until her hand felt something rough and jagged. Puckered flesh in long, hard lines slashed through Jace's back.

"_And you belong to me."_

It was no longer Jace's voice. No longer Jace's flesh beneath her hands.

Clary's eyes flew open to find Sebastian's cold, dead eyes staring back at her, his mouth set in a devilish smirk. A scream choked its way up her throat.

"Clary!" The voice was distant. It floated to her as if carried on the wind as she lay drowning in her own horror.

"Clary!" Her eyes flew open to find Jace—_her_ Jace—staring down at her.

His hands reached out to touch her, then recoiled like a whip as if she had burned him. Jace climbed off of her and kneeled at the foot of her bed. His eyes blazed with fear and concern.

"How long have you been here?" Clary somehow managed to find her voice. Sweat plastered her hair to the sides of her face and her hands involuntarily fisted the covers at her sides.

"Twenty minutes, maybe thirty. You were asleep when I came in, your sketchbook and pencil were lying on the floor."

Clary glanced down to the floor, but there was nothing there.

"I put them on your nightstand."

Sure enough, Clary's sketchpad and pencil were on her nightstand, both arranged at perfectly right angles.

"I didn't want to wake you, so I just slid into bed. When you said my name, I thought I woke you, but your eyes were still closed. It took me a moment to realize you were dreaming." Jace ran his fingers through his hair, an anxious motion. It was dry now, though he was dressed in the exact same grey shirt and pants from her dream. "You said my name again, just a whisper this time, and _moaned_. Your body arched. You gasped and sighed and squirmed beneath the covers, all the while letting out half-moans and pleas. I have to admit, I was jealous of the dream version of me, for the things that he could do to you that I couldn't." I look of pain flashed across his eyes. "Then, this look of horror slid across your face, and you screamed." Jace was watching her, she knew, but she could no longer meet his eyes.

Carefully, Jace placed a single finger under Clary's chin to turn her face to his. "Can you tell me what happened? Did I … stab you again?"

"No. It wasn't you." Her voice was devoid of any emotion. She couldn't help it. Every time she closed her eyes she still saw the imprint of Sebastian's face behind her eyelids. It was like the image was burned into her retinas.

Several emotions flickered across Jace's face in rapid succession. Confusion. Jealously. Fear.

"Lillith." It wasn't a question.

"No—"

Jace cut her off before she could finish. "Listen to me, Clary. What if she's planting these dreams in your head? Planting something evil there just like she did to me. My dreams, they always started out pleasant—_amazing_—until I hurt you … or worse. We need to see the Silent Brothers."

"No."

"Clary, please, if only as a precaution."

"No, Jace. I don't want them inside my head." Again, he dared to touch her, just a simple caress up and down her arms, meant to comfort her. She wanted nothing more than to give herself over to the need to lean into his touch, for him to wrap his arms around her, but she felt cold inside, raw.

"They won't pass judgement, Clary. Everything's already been decided. They've sifted through every memory from my time with Sebastian." She winced at the sound of his name.

"But not mine." Her voice was small. Weak.

"This nightmare of yours, do you know what sparked it, if not Lillith?"

She only nodded, pulling her legs up to her chest, as if somehow she could hold herself together.

"Please tell me. Whatever it is, I don't care. Seeing you like this, the pain in your eyes, its killing me."

She looked at him then, tears brimming in her eyes. It caused her vision to waver like a single finger dipped in still water, rippling its mirror surface. "It was Sebastian."

"Sebastian? I don't understand. Is he controlling your dreams?"

"No. At least I don't think so." Clary took in a shaky breath. "Do you remember the night of the ritual? When Sebastian sent you ahead with the cup and I told you he and I had a fight?"

"Yes, my lip was busted—"

"No, not busted. _Bit._ I bit his lip."

There was only a second of confusion before the dawning of realization. The Holy Fire sprang from Jace's chest, licking flames beneath his skin radiated down his arms and legs. Clary had never seen it this bad, even when the other Shadowhunters had tried to provoke it. He cast a halo of red and gold in the small room. The flames seemed to spark through every part of him, from the tips of his fingers to the ends of every curl on his head. "What did he do to you, Clary? By the Angel, I swear I'll kill him."

"I stopped him, Jace—the gashes, that blow to the head that you felt—I nearly forgot about your bond. I'd rather he kill me. I asked him to, but he refused. That's why he wanted me to drink from the cup. He wanted me to be obedient, _pliant_."

Jace stumbled away from the bed. He turned away from her, his shoulders heaving, his breathing ragged, and his skin still on fire. If it hurt him, he didn't let it show.

Silence fell in the room. Clary held her breath, waiting.

Seconds, maybe minutes, maybe hours passed before the flames beneath Jace's skin died to mere embers. He finally turned to face her, his jaw set and eyes wide. She could tell he was putting forth a lot of effort to control is breathing."I need to know everything he did to you. Don't spare me the details. I will repay him for the pain he's caused you ten-fold, and I won't need the Mark of Cain to do it." A lick of fire passed beneath his skin, but was gone as soon as it had appeared.

Her eyes wide and cautious, barely daring to blink, Clary told Jace what had happened. From the twinned scratch marks she had left on both their backs, to Sebastian recounting Solomon's story from the bible, and how the Egyptians used to marry their siblings to '_strengthen the blood-line_'.

"And I was too blind to see it." Of course he would blame himself, Clary thought. He always did. Jace, with the weight of the world crashing down on his shoulders. Whatever the problem was, he bore the brunt of it. Maybe that was why she kept this from him, kept it from everyone. Or maybe she just thought that if she could ignore it; pretend it didn't happen, that the memory of it would fade into oblivion.

"Jace Lightwood, you will _not_ blame yourself for this! _You_ were the one under a spell. _I_ wasn't and I still didn't see it. He's a sick bastard; the vilest creature to walk the earth. Valentine was right. There was no vestige of humanity in him. The demon blood snuffed it all out."

"He's coming for us, Clary—for _you_—and I intend to use this Holy Fire in my veins to burn him where he stands. Let him face the Holy Fire before he burns in the pits of Hell."

"I hope there's a special place in hell for him."

"Oh, there is. The Seventh Circle. He'll be one below dear old dad."


	2. The Flames of my Desire

Well, I hope that if you are reading this, it means that you enjoyed the first chapter. Thanks to everyone for the story favorites and subscriptions. Also, to the one review, yes, I do plan on continuing this story. I might not be updating it as quickly as this chapter is going up, as I have another story I need to finish, but I will update.

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The Flames of my Desire

"Will you stay with me tonight? I mean, after everything do you think you'll be able to sleep?"

All the seriousness in Jace's features left, replaced by a grin. "That depends. Are you going to start moaning my name again? If so, I doubt I'll get any sleep. In fact, I'll probably need to take a cold shower."

Clary bit her lip. Regardless of how horribly her dream ended, she still had the memory of Jace's hands on her skin, the way his body felt pressed up against hers. It was so vivid, so real. She wanted it to be real, wanted to be able to be with him without fear of getting hurt.

"Where have your thoughts taken you, Clary Fray?"

It was a normal occurrence for Clary to get lost in her thoughts. Reality had a tendency to melt away from her from time to time. "To my dream."

Jace sat back on the bed, his hand stretching out to fill the space between them, his eyes intent on hers. "I'll never let him touch you again." His words held a promise, all the hostility now gone.

"I wasn't thinking about Sebastian. I was thinking about _you_ … in my dream." She hated that she needed to make the distinction between the two of them—the real Jace who could barely touch her and the dream Jace, not held back by the heavenly fire. An idea sparked in her mind. "Can you lie down?"

He eyed her suspiciously, but complied. Stretching out on the right side of the twin bed he crossed one leg over the other. All the while, his eyes never left hers.

Clary scooted toward him, kneeling on the bed. Her cheeks were flush and her hands shook at her sides. "I just thought … all this time, it's been _you_ trying to control the fire, _you_ worried about burning anyone you touched. But what if I touched you? Let me be the one in control." She couldn't help the waver in her voice. She hoped he didn't notice.

"Clary—" he started to protest.

"Just stay calm, Jace. Please, let me try."

She reached with both hands for the hem of his shirt, careful not to touch his skin. Compliantly, he pulled it over his head. He settled back down on the pillows with an exasperated sigh. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but the pants are staying on, just so we're clear."

She tried not to smile and nodded her head. Tentatively, she reached her fingers toward him and ran them along his chest, tracing the scar from the Angel's blade, still red and puckered. Then her hand trailed down across the silver-white scars that mapped his skin of his stomach, watching for the tell-tale red-gold glow. It didn't come. Jace let out a frustrated breath, but Clary wasn't going to hear his excuses. "Go to your happy place."

"That's just the problem. My 'happy place' involves you, and in it we're not platonically sharing a bed. Besides, my other 'happy place' isn't going to be able to take much more of this."

"Your _other_ happy place?"

"The one in my pants."

"Jace," Clary hissed, "I've barely touched you. Close your eyes if it helps."

"Are you going to blindfold me?"

"Would it help if I did?"

"No."

"_Can you stop joking around, please? _This is hard enough as it is."

"Well, it's hard for me, too."

Clary turned abruptly away from him, her cheeks flushed. She giggled despite herself. "Do you know how hard it is to _not_ look at your—_your 'happy place'_?"

She felt him sit up behind her in bed. "I think I'll take that cold shower now." His fingers brushed her hair from her back, tucking it over her left shoulder. She could feel his breath tickle the back of her neck. "Care to join me?"

She turned toward him as his fingers reached out to touch her rune of Angelic Power. She winced at first. The skin still burned. She searched his face, but he seemed serious. "Do you really think that's a good idea?"

"No, but I'm all out of good ideas. You and I in the shower, that's a bad idea. A very bad idea." Jace hooked a finger under the strap of her camisole and pulled it gently off her shoulder.

"Maybe the cold water could counteract the burn?" She hated how much her voice shook, how her heart hammered in her chest, betraying her.

His lips lightly grazed her shoulder blade. A dull shock passed along the surface of her skin. "Wishful thinking, Clary. Cold water is used to treat burns, but I doubt it will do anything to neutralize them."

"What if we leave our clothes on?"

Jace's eyebrow arched. "Are we having a wet T-shirt contest? Had I know I would have worn white."

"And you're assuming you'd win?"

"I think this would count as a win-win situation."

Clary rose abruptly from the bed, pulling her shoulder strap up before she lost her gumption. She padded across the carpeted floor and into the small bathroom, turning on the light and closing the door behind her. Opening the glass shower door, she turned on the water … and waited.

She counted the seconds that passed, hoping the task would calm her nerves. Ninety-three seconds later, the door opened. Jace's eyes flashed darkly when their eyes met.

"This is dangerous, Clary."

"Just consider it part of your training." She turned away from him and climbed into the shower. The ice-cold water did nothing to calm her nerves. Instead, it sucked all the breath out of her lungs. In seconds, she was shivering all over. Her teeth chattered as she considered reaching to turn on the hot water … just a little bit.

A hand reached in front of her, turning the knob. She turned to look at Jace, her teeth chattering, cold water now pouring over her left shoulder.

"Hypothermia isn't sexy, Clary," Jace said, closing the glass door behind them. He turned her around pulling her back to his chest, strong arms wrapping around her own clung desperately across her chest.

The heat from his skin immediately caused her to relax, her chattering and shaking subsided.

"I've never done this before," she confessed.

"Showered? I hadn't noticed a smell."

"No," She rolled her eyes, "showered with someone else."

"Thanks for crushing my girl's locker room fantasy." She turned to face him, her arms still firmly clasped across her own chest. Unlike Jace, who was shirtless right now, she _had_ worn white.

The water was now the perfect temperature. Without thinking, she leaned her head back, letting the warm water wash over her hair.

Jace's eyes dilated as he watched Clary's head tilt back, exposing the long column of her neck while also causing her hips to press against him. A sudden surge of heat passed through him. His arms abruptly withdrew causing Clary to tumble backward, her hands flying out to her sides to steady herself.

Clary's eyes sprung open in surprise. "What did I do?"

Jace was shaking his head. He had backed up against the cold tile of the shower, putting as much space as possible between them. "I don't think I can do this." His eyes were hooded, taking in the sight of her. The thin cotton shirt clung to her skin. He could see the curve of her breasts and the darker shade of her nipples through the wet material. It was too much.

"The fire?"

He swallowed the lump in his throat. "I didn't see it, but I felt it coming on."

Clary looked back at him, a smile suddenly springing to her face. "But that's progress. You felt it and let me go before you burned me. You anticipated it."

"Yes, _this_ time, but what about next time? I can't risk touching you."

The words flew out of her mouth without thinking. "Then don't. Just watch." Heat flooded her cheeks as soon as she said it, her stomach clenching in nervous knots.

"You _are_ trying to torture me, aren't you?"

Clary turned her back to him. "Consider it part of your training." Adrenaline surged through her veins, just as it did when she fought. It emboldened her. She glanced at him over her shoulder as she reached for the hem of her shirt. Slowly, she lifted it, peeling it off like a second layer of skin.

Even over the noise of the water streaming down on top of her, she could hear his breathing hitch. She turned away as she lifted the shirt over her head and let it fall to the shower floor in a wet splat.

Clary froze, then. Fear gripped her. Her mind wandered back to her dream, where she felt no shame as Jace's gaze raked over the bare skin of her chest. _But that was a dream._ Yes, that was a dream, and this was _real._ This was the _real_ Jace, who loved her and accepted her completely.

Slowly, she turned toward him, fighting to urge to pull her hair over her shoulders to hide herself. This time, her eyes searched his, looking for any sign of disappointment. What she saw was a flame, true and bright. It wasn't a trick of her eyes. It was really there, pulsing beneath the surface of his golden gaze.

"Clary," Jace whispered, his chest rising a falling rapidly, "you're killing me." And there was a pain in his eyes. Clary took a small step forward, closing the distance between them. That's when she saw it. The red flame licked its way from his chest outward. each tendon, vein, and bone illuminated under his skin.

Jace's eyes snapped shut, his hands clenched into fists. He worked to control his breathing, and as he did, the flames that flickered beneath his skin subsided.

"Jace—"

"I can't do this, Clary. I'm sorry." Anger tinged each note in his response.

Clary, crestfallen, turned away and shut the off water. She hastily wrung out her hair and cracked open the shower door to reach for a towel. With her back turned to him, she quickly dried her hair and wrapped the towel around her, stepping out of the shower. Clary didn't know what to say to him.

She let out all the air in her lungs once the bathroom door was firmly closed behind her, trying to stave off the sting of rejection. Shucking off the rest of her wet clothes, she tossed them in the hamper. She had just wrenched open the drawer to her dresser when the door opened behind her. Gripping her towel in hand she turned to face him.

He stood in the crack in the door, the light from the bathroom pouring in around him. His hair was a golden tousled mess and his wet pants clung to his skin. His eyes immediately softened when he saw the look on her face. "Clary…" he let out an exasperated sigh and retreated back into the bathroom, closing the door behind him. A few moments later, he reappeared with just a towel around his waist and approached her, stopping only a foot away.

"Clary, you have to know this isn't your fault. You _know_ I want to touch you … more than anything. If I could stand there watching you take off your clothes in front of me without going up into flames, _then _you would know there was something seriously wrong with me. If I could look at the woman I love standing before me in all her glory and be so unaffected …" He ran a nervous hand through his hair. "Do you know how hard it is just to keep my thoughts in check knowing there's nothing beneath that towel?"

She believed him, every word of it. Still, it didn't change the fact that she wanted to scream that it wasn't fair like a petulant child. "If you'll turn around, I'll put some clothes on." Her eyes quickly passed over him. "You should probably put some clothes on too."

"Do you have a silk robe I can borrow? I've been told pink is my color."

She smiled despite herself. "No, but I do have a Wonder Woman pantie and cami set you could borrow."

"Only if it comes with a whip, otherwise I won't consider it." He looked at her seriously then. "There's two sides of me right now, warring against each other. One really wants that towel of yours to accidentally fall to the floor, while the other is praying for your sustained grip strength."

"Then turn around, flame boy." He did as instructed.

Clary pulled out a random pair of underwear and sleep shorts from the open drawer, setting them on top of the dresser. She was just about to open her shirt drawer when she had a thought.

"Jace?" she called over her shoulder.

"You can't possibly be done yet."

"No, I'm not. I was just wondering if I could wear your shirt. I mean, I know you need to go back to your room to change, and I didn't know if you'd be able to come—"

"Of course," he cut her off, "you didn't need to ask."

With her towel still clung tightly to her, she retrieved Jace's shirt from the floor and padded back to her dresser. There was an oval mirror that rested on top of the dresser, and she checked to make sure Jace's back was still turned before she put on her clothes.

She retrieved her towel from the floor and was about to go hang it in the bathroom, when a thought crossed her mind. She hurled her towel at Jace's head. "Oops."

He turned around to glare at her.

"Go get dressed. I'll see you at breakfast." When he didn't move, Clary grabbed her discarded towel from the floor and began to wind it in her hands, preparing to use it as a whip.

"Okay, okay, Wonder Woman. I'm going. I'll see you at breakfast." Clary chased him to the door, slumping against it when it shut behind him. Glancing at the clock on the wall, she saw it was three thirty in the morning.

She climbed off the floor and into her bed, willing herself to go to sleep.

* * *

Jace began making his way silently down the hallway when a door opened. "Shit," he cursed under his breath.

"You two do realize I share a wall with Clary's room, right? It's hard to sleep with all the moaning and screaming going on." Isabelle leaned in the doorway of her room.

"It's not like it sounds, Izzy."

"Sure it's not. That's why you're sneaking down the hall in just a towel at three in the morning. What I don't understand is _how_ …" She threw her hands up. "You know what, never mind, I don't want to know."

"Well, Izzy, when a man and a woman love each other very much—"

"I said I didn't want to hear it, Jace. Go to bed."

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So, I didn't really plan to write another steamy scene so soon, but it just came out. It might seem strange to jump back into bed, so to speak, after Clary just revealed her almost-rape to Jace, but I think this actually points to the fact that Clary still isn't processing what happened to her. She's still pushing it to the back of her mind.

The next chapter will have a confrontation with Isabelle (she's not just going to let things slide without an explanation) and I'll go a little more in depth as to why Clary is at the Institute and not back at Jocelyn and Luke's apartment.

I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter. Feel free to let me know what you think. I'd love to hear from you, good or bad.


	3. Chapter 3

The beginning of this chapter goes into a bit about whats been happening in the last few weeks since book 5.

Thank you to everyone who has reviewed. I've responded to the signed reviews, but still wanted to show my appreciation for the anonymous ones.

Also, have I mentioned that this is unbeta'd? If not, it is. All mistakes are mine, though the very talented Raindropsoup did teach me volumes on proper grammar and punctuation. She now has a website with book reviews and giveaways over at theluvnv. Check it out is you're an avid reader.

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Chapter 3

The moment Clary woke up, she was keenly aware of Jace's absence. Memories of her dream resurfaced, and she felt her cheeks flush in response. Reminiscing, she knew, would be a bad idea considering how horribly her dream ended. Besides, time was a hot commodity these days. Breakfast was in a half hour, and training began promptly at seven.

After folding the waistband of her black sweats over twice, Clary's pants finally fit. A sports bra and a tank top completed her training outfit. Her instructor in agility, Siska, demanded tight-fitting clothing to see the shape of Clary's body during their relentless drills. Any time she broke form—which, unfortunately, was pretty often—Siska would prod her painfully with her staff. Quarter-sized bruises would litter Clary's skin after each training session, but Siska forbade her from using an _iratze_, claiming that '_pain was the best teacher.'_

For once, the Institute was full of visiting Shadowhunters, the rooms of empty beds now half filled. Some were members of the Clave, and some were specifically requested to help in Clary's training.

The Clave's influence stretched far and wide. Nearly every Shadowhunter knew about the current threat—Sebastian's army of demonic Shadowhunters. Only a select few, however, knew that Clary and Jace were the final pieces in Sebastian's plan, and that he would come for them when he was ready. The wards that were cast over the Institute like a safety blanket, and the virtual army of Shadowhunters it housed made the Institute the safest place for Clary, something Jocelyn had to begrudgingly accept.

Jocelyn hated the idea of Clary being anywhere other than Luke's apartment under her own watchful eye, but she eventually caved. She and Luke couldn't give her the same protection as seventy-two skilled Shadowhunters in the specially-warded Institute. On some level, Clary suspected that her mother's hesitation had more to do with the fact that Jace _also_ lived at the Institute. Apparently, hormonal teenagers were more terrifying than incredibly powerful, demonic Shadowhunters hell bent on taking over the world. Since Jace's burning desire for Clary had a literal manifestation, Jocelyn felt her daughter's purity would be preserved. Yet again she underestimated Clary's stubbornness.

After pulling her hair into a tight bun, Clary headed to the kitchen early. She could already smell biscuits and bacon wafting down the hallway. When Maryse was here, she would make breakfast for the six of them. Otherwise, it was oatmeal, bagels, and lukewarm eggs served cafeteria-style in the Galley.

Maryse's back was facing Clary when she entered the kitchen, her jet black hair swept up in a French twist.

"Do you need any help with anything?" Clary called from the doorway.

"Thank you, Clary." Maryse gave her a quick smile over her shoulder, "Can you check on the biscuits?"

The biscuits were a golden brown so Clary pulled them out of the oven, placing them in a napkin-lined basket on the counter. Alec had just sat down when Clary placed the biscuits on the table.

He wore a wrinkled black shirt and his hair stuck out in every direction. The ice-blue intensity in his eyes had gone flat, like aquamarines that had lost their luster. Ever since Magnus and Alec broke up, Alec had been like this. What made it worse is that Magnus was constantly around, opening portals and sending fire messages for the visiting Shadowhunters—and getting paid handsomely for his services. Still, it was hard to watch the two of them together. The awkward moments of silence and lingering stares seemed to stretch on into eternity.

Alec grabbed a biscuit and started nibbling on it, his eyes trained on some spot on the wall beyond the redhead. That was when Clary became keenly aware of a presence behind her. Clary's mouth twitched up into a smile and she spun around, nearly knocking into Jace's shoulder.

"Your training is paying off." Jace's voice was full of pride.

"I'm not sure if it's the training, or just that I know you so well." She looked up into his golden eyes and longed to wrap her arms around him.

It was at that exact moment when Jace stumbled forward, reaching his arms out on either side of Clary to brace himself on the table. Jace looked over his shoulder and glared.

"Do you two ever knock it off? I'd tell you to get a room, but that seems pointless." Clary heard Isabelle's voice, full of acid, before she walked out from behind Jace and plopped down in the chair beside her brother.

"Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed. Did you and your bloodsucker get into a fight?" Alec grumbled taking in Isabelle's appearance. She had dark bags under her eyes and her normally slicked back hair hung wet and unkempt around her shoulders.

"You don't look like you've been sleeping well either, dear brother. In fact," she raised her voice, "I'd venture to say that we_ all_ didn't get much sleep last night. Isn't that right, Clary … Jace?"

Clary felt her cheeks flush a deep red and walked abruptly back into the kitchen to help Maryse get the rest of the food on the table.

"Let it go, Isabelle. I told you it wasn't what it looked like," Jace threatened, leaning across the table.

"I know I'm not getting anything out of you." She eyed Jace pointedly. "So that's why I switched Clary's morning and afternoon schedule. She's stuck with me till lunch."

"Fine. Just … don't be _you_."

"And just what the hell is that supposed to mean?" She arched an eyebrow in challenge.

"Pushy, blunt, and sometimes an outright—"

"Breakfast is served." Clary announced with as much fake cheer as she could muster, carrying a tray full on bacon and eggs in her hands.

The rest of breakfast passed in awkward silence. Alec pushed his eggs around on his plate while Isabelle ate like there was no tomorrow, excusing herself as soon as she was done. Jace and Clary sat in complete silence, while Maryse surveyed the teenagers with suspicion. Robert Lightwood briefly made an appearance, swiping a few strips of bacon, a biscuit, and planting a hasty kiss on Maryse's cheek before disappearing again.

As soon as Clary had finished her food, she washed her dishes and began making her way to the training room. Siska was always early and didn't like to be kept waiting. Before she had even made it out of the residential wing, she caught sight of Isabelle leaning casually against a doorway, her eyes trained on Clary.

"Go get the Gray Book and meet me on the third floor of the library." It seemed as though Isabelle had had run out of pleasantries this morning.

"Isabelle, I can't. I have training with Siska _now_."

"No you don't. I switched your schedule. You'll train with Siska in the afternoon, and you'll be with me all morning."

"And you've cleared this with her?"

"Yes, of course," Isabelle replied coolly.

Turning on her heel, Clary let out an exasperated sigh and headed back to her room to retrieve the Gray Book Magnus had given her. She knew it was useless to argue with Isabelle when she was in '_a mood_.' Unfortunately, Clary had a good idea what Izzy wanted to talk about, and it had nothing to do with Runes. She made a mental note to have a word with Jace later. The least he could have done was give her a warning before the ambush.

Clary trudged up the winding staircase of the library, her Gray Book firmly clasped in her arms. She doubted Isabelle would let her have a chance to crack the cover of the book. Her mind raced to find the answers to the questions Isabelle would likely throw at her. She had the off-hand thought that she was going into battle—a verbal one. Clary was sizing up her opponent, preparing counter attacks, and defensive moves to lead her opponent astray if she had to.

Her nerves hummed as she folded herself onto the floor beside Isabelle, green eyes searching brown ones.

"Spill."

"What do you mean—"

"Come on, Clary. Don't play dumb with me. You're a terrible liar. I know something happened last night. I heard you moaning his name, and your scream could have woken the dead."

"It's not how it sounds."

Isabelle snorted. "Funny, that's exactly what Jace said. I didn't believe him at three in the morning when he was leaving your room in just a towel, and I don't believe you now." Her words ran out in a steady stream her face inching closer to Clary's with her eyes ablaze.

Clary's cheeks flushed a deep red. She couldn't hold Isabelle's gaze. When she cleared her throat to speak, her voice was small. "Nothing happened. At least, what you're thinking didn't happen."

Isabelle studied her for a long moment. "Convince me."

Clary looked up at her then with her eyebrow quirked in question.

"Give me a more likely story, and I'll believe you," Isabelle clarified, obviously still quite sure of her initial assessment.

"Well, you know Jace stays the night with me most nights. We can barely touch, but it's nice to be close to him."

"Yeah. Whatever. Drippy, love-sick puppy talk. Got it. Moving on." She waved her hand for Clary to continue.

"It was a dream, Isabelle. I was dreaming when I was … _moaning_. It wasn't real." Clary put every ounce of conviction she could into the statement, confident that Isabelle had to accept it. After all, it was the truth.

"Okay, fine. I'll take the bait. If it was a dream, tell me about it."

Clary's mouth popped open is surprise, but she had anticipated this—had to anticipate it for her own protection. She had resolved to tell her the first part of the dream, just not the end. "In my dream, Jace came into my room and told me the fire was gone. No more fear of burning me when we touched." Clary glanced at Isabelle who was staring at her intently. "Well, as you can imagine, considering the rocky history of our relationship—the sibling thing, then Jace having dreams of killing me, and now the fire—there was some pent up … _tension_." Clary sighed in frustration. "Do you really want me to go into detail on the rest, Izzy? After all, you _heard_."

"So you had sex with Jace in your dream, while he was watching you sleep." She was smiling now. "Now _that's_ embarrassing. That still doesn't explain the scream. Did he show you his penis? I have to admit, I nearly burst out laughing when I saw one for the first time." Isabelle looked at Clary, who was staring at her like she had grown a second head. "Okay, so why did you scream, and keep in mind you still haven't explained the shower afterward."

Isabelle's mood changed as quickly as the flick of her whip. The sarcastic Isabelle was quickly replaced by the detective with her prying questions. _This_ was the part where Clary couldn't meet her eyes. If she did, she knew they would betray her. "I was startled awake. The scream, Jace called my name and it startled me out of my dream."

There was silence, utter and complete. Of course, there were people rifling through the books on the first and second levels of the library, and the sound of shuffling pages and murmured voices could be heard below. And if Clary stretched her senses beyond the small space between her and Isabelle, she would likely hear those sounds, but instead she was lost in the weighty silence. Clary's eyes searched for any emotion on Isabelle's face, something that would tell her what conclusion she had come to. When she still saw doubt there, Clary felt her shoulders slump, prepared for more prying.

"So, you were startled awake. You definitely _did_ sound scared. Now, what about the shower?" Her eyes narrowed on the red head.

Clary's brain scrambled for what to do. She knew the layout of the rooms at the Institute and knew that her bathroom shared a wall with Isabelle's room and also a wall with her bathroom. The tile on the floors and in the stall would likely cause an echo, and Isabelle was a Shadowhunter, with Runes on her skin to improve her senses and years of practice to hone them.

"I was disappointed when I woke up. I wanted the dream to be real. I wanted Jace to try to be able to touch me. He joked about needing a cold shower, and before he could say no or change his mind, I started the shower. I left the water cold, hoping that it might counteract a burn if he dared touch me, but all it did was chill me to the bone. He came in and turned on the hot water and tried to warm me up."

"So, you used the naked-girl-in-the-shower bit. I have to admit, I didn't think you had it in you, Fray." Isabelle studiously ignored Clary's attempts to interrupt her, very much enjoying the fish out of water scene of Clary opening and closing her mouth with big gulps of air. When she was finished, Clary burst into her retort.

"I was _not_ naked. _We_ were not naked," she hissed. Isabelle did believe her, but she didn't want to let that fact on to Clary. She enjoyed her exasperation too much.

"So, you climbed in the shower fully clothed to tempt your boyfriend to touch you? Do you really expect me to believe that?"

"He wouldn't even touch me if I _was_ naked." The words flew out of Clary's mouth before she could contain them. "He's so afraid of hurting me." She was so flustered that she lost her cool. She hated the bitterness in her own voice. Shouldn't she be relieved that her boyfriend valued her safety over everything else, even over teenage hormones?

Isabelle decided to stop pressing at Clary's admission. "We're all trying to help Jace control the heavenly fire. All his training is focused on it."

"I think," she shook her head, "no, I _know_ part of him doesn't want to control it. He thinks he's meant to use it to kill _Sebastian_. That Michael's blade was meant for _Sebastian_, and now the essence of the blade—the Holy Fire—was left within him to finish the job. He told me as much last night." Clary didn't noticed that the Gray Book had fallen to the ground. She didn't noticed that her arms wrapped themselves around her when she said her brother's name. She didn't notice how her eyes changed to an intense, deep emerald, full of rage when the name _'Sebastian'_ left her lips.

"You really hate him, don't you?"

"What? _Who?_"

"Your brother."

Clary winced when Isabelle referred to Sebastian as her brother. A brother wouldn't want to do the things _he_ wanted to do. Still, she couldn't tell Isabelle, she had to protect that memory. To bury it deep within her mind and throw as much as she could on top of it to smother it—to drown it out. She made her face into a mask before she replied.

"Of course I hate him. He's evil, hell-bent on destroying the world. How could I _not_ hate him?" But Clary's voice was too calm. The venom it should have held was glossed over with indifference.

"The time you spent with him—you and Jace—how was he?"

Clary's head snapped toward Isabelle, her eyes pleading with her to stop. _Stop_ asking her questions she didn't want to answer. Her own nails dug into her skin. "I really don't want to talk about it, Isabelle."

Isabelle came up short then, realizing she had obviously hit a nerve. Usually, this was the point where she would prod and poke relentlessly until she got what she was looking for. Something told her that Clary was hiding something—something _big_. Something she obviously _didn't_ want to discuss. There was a gnawing that was growing in the pit of her stomach, an uneasiness.

Without her permission her mind pushed forward images of a burning Alicante, demons running rampant in the streets. All around her was death and fighting, loss and destruction. Ichor stained the streets, stained the sightless faces of dead men, women, and children. She saw Aline, semi-conscious with a demon crouched over her small form, and as she watched Aline's dark hair turned a crimson red and her sharp, defined features softened. Slowly, reality came back into focus.

She turned to look at Clary again, looking, instead, right through her.

Clary studied her face with confusion. "Izzy?" she hedged.

Without warning she spun around and fled down the stairs, her black hair trailing in her wake. She left without another word, the same way she did that night in Alicante.

* * *

I hope this last part isn't confusing. We know in City of Glass that Isabelle felt some regret about not knowing what to say to Aline, and now, she's feeling the same thing again here, but with Clary. I'll be going into more of Isabelle's inner turmoil in the next chapter, and we will probably also see more of her relationship with Simon, too.


	4. Chapter 4

**Sorry this was a little later update than the previous chapter. I'm a hugely pregnant mom of a three year old and a pre-teen. Yup, lucky me. Needless to say, between working, being a mommy, and waddling around the house, real life can be pretty consuming. Even with the pending birth of baby number three, I'm still dedicated to this story. Who needs sleep, right? To make matters worse, I've also been bitten by the plot fairie, and am finding it difficult not to write down my musings. So please be on the lookout for another TMI fan fiction after this one is complete. I'm trying my hardest not to start writing that one before this one is finished.**

* * *

Chapter 4

Isabelle pushed open the doors of the training room, ignoring the resonating sound as they slammed shut in her wake. Her eyes canvased the group of Shadowhunters before her—all of which had her complete and undivided attention after her sudden arrival—looking for the small, dark-haired girl.

Aline was taken aback by the look in Isabelle's eyes as she strode purposefully toward her. She glanced back to Helen, who wore a worried expression on her face. Only Helen knew Aline still blamed herself for Max's death. Though Jonathon Morgenstern had tricked everyone into thinking he was her cousin, Sebastian, Aline had spent the most time with him. She still felt like she should have known, and that if she had figured out he was an imposter sooner, maybe Max wouldn't have died. Even though Isabelle—the whole Lightwood family in fact—had assured her time and time again that it wasn't her fault, she still felt the stab of guilt every time she looked at one of them. Now was no different, especially with the determined look in Isabelle's eyes.

Isabelle stopped a foot from Aline, her dark eyes full of conflict and her eyebrows pinched in frustration.

"I need to talk to you," Isabelle's gaze flickered to Helen momentarily, then back to Aline, "alone."

Aline turned to see Helen's worried expression. She reached out and grabbed her hand, giving it a small squeeze and a nod of her head in assurance. "It's okay, we won't be long." Though, Aline didn't know if her words held any truth. The girl with aqua eyes slowly turned from the two dark-haired girls and went back to the mat where the other Shadowhunters were once again training.

Isabelle hadn't planned this out in her head and had no idea how to go about this conversation with Aline. '_I'm sorry you almost got raped by a demon'_, though direct, seemed a little insensitive. Aline looked at her expectantly as Isabelle lamented the fact that she grew up surrounded by boys. Boys were direct. There were no hidden meanings, no subtle hints she had to strain to pick up on.

"I—I've wanted to talk to you about what happened in Alicante for a long time?" Isabelle didn't know why the sentence came out as a question, but at least it was out there. It was a start.

Aline, immediately jumping to the wrong conclusion, felt her shoulders slump with the weight of guilt. _She never really forgave me._

"Look, I'm not good at talking about this kind of stuff, which is why I feel terrible that I haven't said anything till now. I just—I …"

It was something about Isabelle's tone that made Aline question whether or not they were thinking the same thing.

Isabelle leaned in closer, her face only a few inches from Aline's. "The demon in the streets … I mean I had heard that they sometimes did that, but I never really …" Isabelle's voice trailed off, she knew she was rambling, and probably _not_ helping. "I just wanted to say, I'm sorry. You shouldn't have had to go through something like that."

Aline's eyes widened in understanding. She was actually relieved. "Oh, _that_." Of course she had thought about that night, had played the chain of events over and over in her head a thousand times. Some parts seemed too horrible to be real, though the reality had sunk in as she took in the sight of Max's lifeless body. Her memory seemed to skip over the part about the demon, because it held no lasting weight for her. She was alive, thanks to Isabelle, when so many others hadn't survived that night.

"That wasn't the worst part of the night for me. Maybe I tricked myself into thinking that I dreamed up that part, because the rest of the night was painfully real. I know I should have thanked you, I just didn't know if you wanted my thanks after … after what happened to Max. Still, you saved my life, Isabelle. I owed you my thanks. You never owed me an apology."

Isabelle let out a sigh of relief, but she still couldn't completely shake the feeling of uneasiness. She thought back to her recent conversation with Clary. She knew there was something she wasn't telling her. Normally, that would bug Isabelle to no end. After all, she liked to have everything laid out on the table, and she rather enjoyed dragging out the details from people, willing or not. This was different. And though her conversation with Aline had helped, there was still a nagging thought in the back of her mind.

Seeming to sense her discomfort, Aline hedged to ask another question. "Is there something else?" Whether they knew it or not, the two girls were quite alike—both blunt to a fault, unless it made them vulnerable. For Aline, her perceived part in Max's death was her vulnerability. It was the subject that was completely off-limits to everyone except for Helen, and even then, she was still guarded.

For Isabelle, her vulnerability was love. Her relationship with Simon made her feel more fragile than anything else in her life ever had. She had never met anyone that bore their feelings so openly like Simon and Clary did. And now, to see her friend hurt—to recognize the expression in her eyes—she was at a loss for what to do. Normally, she'd run to Simon and ask for his advice. After all, he arguably knew Clary better than anyone else. But in this situation, she worried she would betray Clary's trust over a secret Clary didn't know she even knew. There was still the thought that it was all in her head, that maybe her vision of Clary in Aline's role was just a figment of her imagination. She looked down at the clairvoyance rune on the back of her hand, wishing it could help her see into Clary's thoughts like it let her see past glamour.

"Yes," Isabelle hissed. She was a complete mess. "I think something happened to a … to someone I know." She wasn't making much sense, all the ambiguity compounding. Taking a deep breath, she squeezed her eyes shut and continued. "I think I know someone who might have been raped, and I have no idea what to say to them."

"Okay," Aline drawled out. "Do you know what happened to them, specifically?" This wasn't exactly Aline's forte either, but Isabelle had come to her for help, and she owed her that and more.

"No, it's just a hunch. I don't even know if I should ask her what happened. What if I'm wrong? I'll just make a complete fool out of myself."

"By the Angel, Isabelle, I don't know what to say. I guess just be there for her? Be supportive? Maybe she'll tell you what happened."

"So I'm supposed to wait; to be patient and wait till she spills the beans. Patience isn't exactly my strong suit, you know."

"Be there for her. Be a friend. I'm assuming this person is a friend of yours, right?"

"Yes," Isabelle responded before thinking. Isabelle didn't have many friends, especially not female friends. In fact, Clary could constitute as the only girl friend, not counting Aline herself. Maia, maybe, but the fact that she and Simon dated still made things a little awkward. "Look. I'm sorry I bombarded you like that, Aline. Thanks for your help, but I need to go."

_Great_, thought Isabelle as she turned to go, not only did she have no more information as to how to approach Clary, she was pretty sure that Aline knew who she was talking about. _Maybe I should have just gone to Simon in the first place._

Isabelle climbed back up the winding staircase of the library, hoping against hope that Clary wouldn't still be there. The third floor was usually deserted, and this is where Isabelle often went to think. To her relief, Clary wasn't there, but her Gray Book was. Isabelle scooped up the book and headed back to Clary's room. She knocked on the door, something that she didn't usually do, and when there was no answer she walked into Clary's room. She grabbed the condoms she had left on Clary's nightstand and placed the Gray Book in their place. She had hoped that Clary would have laughed or turned several different shades of red when she walked in to find the condoms, especially the flavored ones, but now they just seemed cruel—cruel because Clary and Jace wouldn't have a use for them, and cruel because they could potentially remind her of something _bad_.

Isabelle headed back to her room, ditching the rest of her morning training.

Jace felt the gust a wind ruffle his hair as Alec's Seraph blade whirled a little too close to his head. He was off today.

"What's wrong with you?" Alec questioned.

"Just a little preoccupied." Jace rolled his shoulders and hopped back and forth lithely, refocusing his attention. "I'm ready. Give me your best."

Alec studied Jace before bursting into action, feigning a low arching blow before doubling back toward Jace's left shoulder. When Jace deftly dodged the attack, he continued the motion of the blade for a downward slash across the abdomen, but Jace quickly back stepped out of the way.

With Alec's blade still poised, he took a quick shuffling step forward with a jab, but Jace disappeared as if into thin air before Alec could connect. He withdrew his blade and began to look around, but Jace was nowhere to be seen. A high-pitched whistle sounded from above, catching Alec's attention.

Jace was perched comfortably on one of the rafters, swinging his legs back and forth with a gloating smile on his face. Alec shouldn't be upset, after all, it was the nature of _parabatai _to anticipate each other's moves. However, Jace was sort of a conundrum. His abilities continued to intensify, making it difficult to anticipate what he would do next. Alec felt stagnant in comparison. Of course, there were more than just his fighting abilities that led him to feel that way lately. His love life had gone stagnant, too. Magnus wouldn't even so much as give him the time of day.

Just then, a Shadowhunter peered into the training room, one Alec didn't recognize. That wasn't saying much, though, as the Institute was overrun with new faces, and Alec didn't care enough to acquaint himself with any of them.

"Is Jace here?" The boy, probably no older than sixteen, questioned. "There's a Jordan Kyle from the Praetor Lupus waiting outside for him."

Jace hopped down from the rafters, startling the boy half to death.

"I guess we're moving training outside today." He gestured for Alec to come along, and having nothing better to do, he did.

Jordan met them at the door, a sly smile forming once the door closed behind Jace and Alec. "We'll be playing with fire again today, boys. Well, actually, I'm hoping that what I have planned will work to make sure Flame Boy over here stays cool and relaxed."

Jace groaned. "Please, no more meditation or trying to find my inner chakra. You're not hiding a yoga mat behind your back, are you?" Jace tried to peer behind Jordan, but the boy moved with him.

"Nope," Jordan responded, popping the 'p'. "I brought this." He pulled a bottle of bourbon from behind his back.

"You're going to get me drunk?"

"Well, yeah, that's the idea. Lower your inhibitions. Loosen you up some. You always seem so tightly wound—no offense—so I thought this might work to stop the fire."

"That's a terrible idea—"Alec interjected.

"No, I'll give it a try. But bourbon, really? That, and I usually have a rule of not drinking before noon, and it's barely past nine."

"It was either this or tequila."

"Bourbon it is, then. Let's head to Central Park. It wouldn't be good if someone caught us boozing it up on the front steps on the Institute."

Clary wanted nothing more than to go find Jace, but feared running into Isabelle in the training room. She thought idly about using a tracking rune to keep an eye on Isabelle's whereabouts, but that would mean she would have to sneak into her room to get something of hers, which would be risky. It also seemed like a lot of effort to go through just to avoid someone. Still, Clary felt like Isabelle _knew_. Somehow, she knew what happened with Sebastian. It was all in the look in her eyes and the way she stormed off without an explanation.

Instead, she found herself hiding out in the greenhouse, which was generally deserted now that Hodge was gone. Maryse had taken up the task of caring for the plants and flowers, but not with as much vigor as Hodge. It was understandable, though. The flowers that Hodge had painstakingly cultivated were flowers that only lived in Idris, a place he had been cursed never to see again by the Clave. Ironically, the last time he would see Idris was through the tiny bars of his cell at the Gard and in the few moments before Sebastian ended his life. Though Hodge had betrayed Clary and Jace both, she still couldn't find it in her to feel any bit of hatred for him. Pity, yes, but not hatred.

If only the _mendelin _rune would hide her from Shadowhunters, too. She wished very much to be invisible right now. Instead, she resorted to using a soundless rune, pulling her stele from the waistband of her sweats and marking it carefully on her forearm.

Her eyes darted back and forth, examining every dark corner as her ears strained for the sound of footsteps. With her senses on high alert, she made her way to the training room, reaching up on tip toes to peer into the window of one of the doors. She scanned the many bodies in the room, but other than Aline and Helen, she saw no one she remotely knew. She was about to push open the door, when her phone buzzed in her pocket, nearly causing her to jump out of her own skin.

_Come to Central Park and be prepared to play along – Jordan_

Clary read the text a few times, trying to decipher its meaning. Besides, she was strictly forbidden to leave the Institute without her '_posse_', as Simon had termed them. 'Posse' was just a better term for babysitters, because that's what Clary felt like they were. The 'posse' was part of the agreement Jocelyn had made with her to live at the Institute. She wasn't allowed to leave the hallowed ground without at least two more people for protection. Jocelyn had insisted on at least three, but compromised on two.

_Sorry, I can't leave the Institute alone_, she texted back.

_Already on it. Simon and May are on their way to get you._

Maybe one of them would know what this was about. She rode down in the gilded elevator and padded silently through nave of the cathedral. Clary waited by the door of the Institute for Simon and Maia, hidden in the shadows.

A second after Simon knocked, the door swung open, and Clary's small form slid out and closed the door behind her.

"So, I think the 'posse' should have an official name," Simon blurted as soon as the door shut. The two girls just stared at him.

"Just so you can change it every other week like your band name? No thanks, I'm not wasting any brain power to come up with a pointless name that will only be changed." Maia seemed in an unusually sour mood, Clary noticed. She definitely knew something. Clary was just about to ask her what this little errand was all about—specifically Jordan's cryptic message—when Simon interjected.

"I was thinking something along the lines of 'Defenders of the Last Vestige of Hope,' but that's too much of a mouth full."

"How about the Defenestration Squad?" Maia snarked.

"I like it, but what does it mean?"

"It means that I will throw you out of a window if you don't shut up about the stupid posse name."

"O—kay. Changing topics. So, why are we going to Central Park?" Well that cleared up whether or not Simon knew anything.

"Jordan came up with another scheme to try to control the heavenly fire. So far it's working. Jordan's been pushing all of Jace's buttons and no fire. Still, he feels like he's lacking the proper … _motivation_." Maia glanced over to Clary when she said the last part.

"Wait. _I'm_ the motivation?" Clary was clearly confused.

Maia sighed, stopped, and turned to face the red head. "Think about it, Clary. Out of everything in the word, you mean the most to Jace. More than fighting, more than his hair, even more than his own life."

"So, is Jordan planning on _hurting_ me?"

"No, he's going to hit on you. Maybe that's a poor choice of words. He's going to _flirt_ with you."Clary's eyes widened, looking like they were about to pop out of her head. "Yeah, I don't like the idea much either, but I think he's got a point."

Clary followed her two friends, hoping her soundless rune was still working to silence the hammering of her heart. Her anxiety ramped up to a new level once she spotted Jace and Jordan up ahead in an open field. Alec was there, too, but he seemed completely uninterested, as usual. Jace was turned away from them as they approached, but Jordan clearly saw them. He broke away from Jace and jogged over toward Mia, Simon, and Clary.

Jordan passed Simon without so much as a glance, but seemed to catch Maia's gaze for a time before his eyes held Clary's wary gaze. Without warning, Jordan scooped Clary up and spun her around in circles. He leaned in close to her, one hand wrapped tightly around her lower back, while the other tugged at the elastic band which held Clary's hair in a tight bun. Clary startled at the feel of Jordan's breath tickling her neck and tried to pull away. "Giggle or something. Act like this isn't as awkward as it is," Jordan instructed.

Clary giggled, but it sounded … _off._ A little deranged.

"Clary?" Jace slurred. "What the _hell_?" Clary watched Jace's uneven strides as he approached them. She pulled away from Jordan as much as his tight hold will allow just as Jace's arm reached out to grab Jordan's left shoulder, prying him away from her. All the while, Clary's eyes never left Jace's. His golden gaze never sparked. The fire never ignited, though he was clearly upset.

Jace swooped in and lifted Clary from her feet, his arms fastened tightly to her and pulling her closer than Jordan had dared, closer than Jace had dared for several weeks. Clary was lost in the feel of his arms around her, holding her without fear. She looked up into his eyes just as his mouth came down on hers. She tasted the alcohol, but didn't care. There was no spark this time, no pain. His mouth moved against hers with a certain urgency, as if he had something to prove. Clary's arms snaked around his neck, tangling in his hair as Jace's hands tugged and pulled on her shoulders, the small of her back, down the curve of her ass and to her thigh, where he hitched her legs around his waist.

Clary gasped into his open mouth with surprise. Jace grunted in response, deepening their kiss.

"Okay, guys. This is quickly heading from a PG -13 rating to R." Simon's voice brought Clary out of her reverie. She had completely forgotten that they were in Central Park, surrounded by people. She tried to disentangle herself from Jace, but he just pulled her tighter.

"No! _Mine_," he grumbled into her hair. "Let's go back to the Institute, jump in the shower, and pick up where we left off."

A chill passed through Clary's whole body. As tempted as Clary was to do just that, she knew she couldn't.

"Any flames?" Alec asked, his tone only holding the slightest bit of interest.

"Nothing. Not a hint, even during _that_ display," Jordan answered as heat flooded Clary's cheeks.

"Well I still don't know how we're going to explain Jace's inebriated appearance at lunch today, which, I should tell you is in a half hour." Alec rose from the ground, dusting off his back side. "Besides, we've already proven that he can't fight worth a damned drunk, so this really hasn't helped us at all. Getting him drunk is risky. We have no idea when Sebastian will attack, and we can't have our star quarterback puking on the sidelines."

"A football reference? Really?" Simon interjected.

"Is it hard to believe I know anything about football because I'm gay, or because I'm a Shadowhunter?"

Simon stared back at Alec, speechless.

"Let's just get Jace and Clary back to the Institute before everyone freaks out." Maia proved to be the voice of reason, which thankfully, everyone listened to. Simon silently mouthed '_thank you'_ to Maia, who shrugged in response.

Clary reveled in the warmth of Jace's hand clasped firmly in hers on their way back to the Institute. All the while her mind was exploring the possibilities of how much she could do with a drunk Jace. She felt oddly like a Vaudeville villain, curling his mustache as he plotted his evil plan to deflower his innocent victim. Of course, Jace was no innocent victim. Still, who knew the key to her '_happy place_' was getting her boyfriend drunk? Then again, would she settle for a watered down, inebriated version of her Jace? Was that what she wanted for their first time? Would he even remember it the next morning? She couldn't help but think about the similarities between drunk Jace and the Jace that Sebastian had a hold over. Reluctantly, she resolved that she wouldn't do anything with Jace unless he was completely in control of himself.

_Nothing past second base_, she mentally amended.

Sometimes, it sucked being responsible.

* * *

**Does anyone else want Clary to liquor Jace up and ride him into the sunset like I do?**

**Admittedly, I didn't get half of what I wanted to get accomplished in this chapter, done. And somehow it still ended up super long. In the next chapter, we'll have some mother and daughter bonding time, and maybe a confession to Isabelle. Not 100% sure on the last one, though.**

**I hope you enjoyed it. And thank you to everyone who has reviewed, followed, and favorited the story. To those guest reviews, I appreciate them even if I can't reply directly to you guys!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Sorry for the big delay in posting, guys. Life's been crazy. Sick kid. A hospital stay for myself, and last minute prep for my baby which could be born any day now (I was expecting to go over my due date, but doesn't look like that.)**

**Thanks to Elena, my guest reviewer. I hope you enjoy this chapter.  
**

**I wasn't too happy with the last chapter, and I actually intended to move the story along more in this chapter, too, but some characters just *had* to have a heart to heart. I'm going to try to start writing the next chapter _right now _in hopes that I can get it out before my son makes his arrival into the world.**

* * *

A Dinner Party

Jordan had apologized to Jace a number of times on the way back to the Institute.

"It wasn't that believable," Jace retorted, staring down at Clary with a goofy grin on his face. "I may be slightly intoxicated, but I'm not stupid." Jace's hand started rubbing small circles in Clary's palm. Soon, his fingers began ghosting up and down her arm, spreading gooseflesh over her entire body. He leaned close to her, the smell of bourbon swirling around them.

"I've missed this," Jace whispered into Clary's hair, a little too loudly. Clary felt her cheeks flush.

"_Great_, all you've succeeded in doing is giving the happy couple a distraction. A distraction from what we should _all_ be worried about. Sebastian's coming, and soon. The demon activity is on the rise. They're bolder, attacking humans without restraint. The Clave's been working double time trying to cover up the deaths and disappearances while also trying to find out any information they can about Sebastian's plans. He's like a ghost, there's no trace of him, no evidence of the army he's supposedly amassing. And all we're doing is playing games and getting drunk in Central Park."

Clary found herself pulling away from Jace as Alec spoke, feeling the weight of truth in his words. Alec was right; she had become distracted with the idea of being able to touch Jace. To be with him like she had wanted to for so long. She had completely forgotten that they were at war now, or waiting for war to come to them.

"Sorry, man. I was just trying to help." Jordan bit back. "This fight involves all of us, not just the Shadowhunters. And how are we supposed to prepare for something when we have no information about what to expect? If the Clave weren't so tight lipped—"

"Do you forget that the Council is now made up of Shadowhunters _and_ downworlders alike? That when Graymark accepted his spot on the Council to represent the werewolves, that the man who agreed to be his proctor is a member of the Praetor Lupus? If you feel so uninformed, perhaps you should go back to your headquarters and help with _their_ preparations. I don't think we need your help here." Alec was in rare form. He had been so quiet over the last several weeks, seeming to avoid conversations whenever possible. Everyone knew he was hurting, could see it plainly written on his face, but Clary hadn't expected the sudden outburst.

"Alec, lay off of him," Jace demanded, but his slurred words only seemed to fuel Alec's ire.

"I think it's time you three leave. We're late for lunch, and if the others realize the _chosen ones_ are missing they'll assume the worse."

Clary winced at the term Alec used to refer to them.

Maia grabbed Jordan's hand, glaring daggers at Alec as she turned, tugging Jordan along behind her. Simon called an awkward goodbye over his shoulder before shoving his hands into his leather jacket and leaving the three Shadowhunters at the door of the Institute.

Alec ran his fingers roughly through his hair, sighing dramatically before throwing open the door and walking into the cathedral. Clary hauled Jace through the door, following Alec as they passed the rows and rows of unused pews.

"I'm sorry," Alec muttered under his breath once the three of them were in the elevator. "I just feel like we're all wasting our time—like we're all focused on the wrong thing."

Clary nodded. "I know the feeling. It's helplessness. I feel it, too. We're all trying to prepare for something we can't see coming. All that we know is that it's coming. _Sebastian,_" Clary swallowed hard, "is coming."

Jace's head had rocked back, leaning against the golden bars of the elevator, his eyes closed.

"Get him some coffee or something. He needs to sober up before afternoon training. We're having an emergency Council meeting tonight. All the Clave members present will be in attendance."

The elevator lurched to a stop, startling Jace into a more alert state. The three of them headed toward the Galley.

The smells coming from the Galley and the bustle of voices reminded Clary of high school. But instead of linoleum floors and white walls, the Galley still had the same architectural elements of the rest of the Institute, with its smooth stone walls and long, narrow windows arching to points at the top. The stainless steel appliances and modern tables and chairs contrasted with the obvious age of their surroundings. Metal trays clanked along as piles of indiscernible meats, vegetables, and starches were plopped unceremoniously on tray after tray. The cooks obviously weren't worried about presentation, just making sure that everyone had the balanced diet necessary for training. Luckily, there was always coffee in the Galley and Clary filled a mug of the steaming liquid and brought it back to the table where Alec and Jace had begun eating.

"Why haven't you called Magnus? Professed your undying love to him?" Jace's sentences were running together, and he seemed to be completely unaware of how loud he was getting. Luckily, no one seemed to notice, as the noise level in the Galley drowned out individual conversations.

"I _have_ called him, at least a million times. He doesn't return my calls. He obviously wants nothing to do with me." Alec sulked over his pile of what looked like mashed potatoes.

"You know, it was weird at first—the two of you …" Jace proceeded to make a rude hand gesture, causing Alec's eyes to bulge as he nearly choked on his food. "But once you get past all the glitter he's a good guy, and he made you happy. Just don't give up on him. He'll come around. I know it. I have a sort of sixth sense about these things." Jace winked, tapping his finger to his temple.

Alec smiled—an actual smile. The first real one Clary had seen in quite some time.

"Maybe we _should_ get you drunk from time to time," Alec commented, leaning across the table to muss Jace's hair.

"Hey, man. Lay off the locks."

Alec rolled his eyes and continued eating his food.

Clary's phone buzzed again in her pocket. She retrieved it, looking at the text message.

_Bringing Taki's tonight. How about breakfast for dinner? –Mom_

Clary smiled, and was just about to text her mother back when her phone was ripped from her grasp.

"Who's texting you?"

"Jace, it's my Mom! Now, give me back my phone. She's coming for dinner."

Jace skimmed over the text while dodging Clary's attempts to swipe the phone from his grasp. Clary groaned, even drunk he was still quicker than her.

"Ooh, Taki's. Have her bring me a cheeseburger!"

Clary glared at him. "Please?" Jace amended, beaming up at her.

"Fine. Now drink you're coffee. I've changed my mind. You're annoying when you're drunk." Clary rose from the table with her tray in hand. "I better get to the training room, I'm sure Siska's waiting none too patiently to dole out her particular brand of pain … I mean _training_." Clary turned her attention to Alec. "You'll keep an eye on him?"

Alec nodded.

Before she could walk away, Jace pulled Clary into his lap flush against his chest. She struggled to balance her tray to keep the contents from clattering to the floor. Jace's breath was hot on her neck. "So, I'm annoying, am I?" He asked, running his nose from her collarbone up to just below her ear. "Am I annoying you now?" He nipped at her earlobe, sending a jolt through Clary's whole body.

"No," she whispered breathlessly, leaning further against him as his arms circled around her waist.

Someone cleared their throat, and Clary was suddenly aware that the constant din of conversation in the room had quieted to a near silence. She felt the heat of several sets of eyes on her, a scarlet forming over her cheeks. She sat bolt upright in Jace's lap, her grip tightening on her tray until her knuckles turned white.

"Jace, everyone's staring," she whispered.

He was playing with her hair now, twirling her curls around his fingers. "Let them stare."

"I have to _go_. I'm going to be late for training."

Reluctantly, Jace let her go.

Clary hastily redid her hair on the way to the training room, trying to choke down the embarrassment of the very public near-make-out scene in the Galley. Jace's emotional state usually tended to shift like the changing wind, but with alcohol in his system, his moods seemed to change by the second.

Clary quickly texted her mom back with her and Jace's orders.

_What does Isabelle want_, was her mother's answering text.

Clay hadn't thought about Isabelle joining them for dinner, but of course she would. Isabelle, like she and Jace, were too young to attend the Council meeting. Needless to say, Clary wasn't looking forward to dinner with her mother, her likely hung-over boyfriend, and her friend she was currently trying to avoid.

_Just get her that pasta diavolo dish_

Isabelle had ordered it before, so Clary hoped it was a good choice. After putting her phone on silent—Siska despised interruptions and cell phones, particularly interruptions from cell phones—Clary placed her cell phone back in her pocket as she entered the training room.

Siska was waiting for her, brutal training staff already in hand. Not for the first time, Clary wished they could just give her the Agility rune to aid her in agility, instead of having to "earn" it. Clary withdrew her stele and phone from her pants, placing them on the floor in the corner of the room, out of eye shot from Siska.

_Great, the balance beam, _Clary thought. Her training routine with Siska had started on the floor, just a series of drills to memorize. It took Clary five sessions to learn the routine, but she didn't have time to revel in her sense of accomplishment. The very next training session, there was a rope ladder taped to the floor. So she had to complete her whole routine without setting foot outside the rungs on the ladder. After that, it was a narrow balance beam on the floor. Today, the balance beam had been raised, to _five feet_ off the floor. And unlike her training sessions with Jace, there were no wires, cords, or mats to protect her from falling.

Clary tried to clear her head of Jace, of Isabelle, and what would be a very uncomfortable dinner tonight. Instead, she thought of how uncomfortable her _night_ would be if she didn't perform well for Siska.

"Ready?" Siska asked, giving Clary the feeling that there was only one right answer.

_No. _"Yes," Clary responded.

* * *

Clary surprised herself. Despite the crazy day she had, she was somehow able to completely focus on her training, earning her a rare 'well done' from Siska. She still had her fair share of bruises that would be popping up on her pale skin within the hour, but much less than normal. Siska commented that if she kept up this pace during the next three training sessions, she would earn her Agility rune by the end of the week.

After a warm shower and a fresh change of clothes, Clary settled into her bed and closed her eyes. She had no intention of falling asleep, but instead tried to will herself to create a rune—something, _anything—_that would be of some help. Every warlock within the clave had attempted to track Sebastian to no avail. There were Shadowhunters sent across the globe on missions to seek out any information they could find, but they all come back empty-handed. Even the network of trusted downworlders had revealed no information other than the obvious rise in demon activity.

Clary knew that this Council meeting was significant. Sure, they held bi-weekly meetings, but the last meeting was only a few days ago. They _had_ to have some new information. Something was happening. She could feel it. So that was why she concentrated, her eyes clamped shut, waiting and hoping for some image to appear behind her eyelids. She invoked the name of Raziel, of Ithuriel, of God, searching for some divine intervention.

She had no idea the amount of time that had passed when a knock on her door caused her eyes to spring open and for Clary to sit bolt upright in bed.

"Come in," she responded, attempting to smooth down her hair.

Jocelyn poked her head through the door, bringing with her the tantalizing aroma of coconut pancakes. Clary's stomach growled appreciatively.

"Ready for dinner?"

"My stomach certainly is." Clary got out of bed and slipped her shoes on before following her mother out into the hallway, heading for the kitchen.

"How is training going?" The conversations between Clary and her mother usually started out with the same questions.

"Good. I actually got a compliment for Siska today. I don't think that's ever happened before."

"She's your agility instructor, right?"

Clary nodded her head.

"How's Jace doing?" Jocelyn made her best attempt to sound cordial, but there was still something that was forced in her voice. It was probably the dissatisfaction of her daughter dating a boy who was raised by her evil ex-husband. Clary wondered if her mother would ever see past that fact and realize that, where it mattered, Jace was nothing like Valentine.

"He's doing fine, still dealing with the heavenly fire, though." Clary always tried to slip that fact into their discussions; a subtle way of saying '_yes, I'm still a virgin despite living under the same roof as my boyfriend_.' Usually it only took that one comment for Jocelyn to visibly relax. When Jocelyn's shoulders seemed to let loose an ounce of tension, Clary decided to change subjects.

"Do you know anything about this meeting? Does Luke have any information?"

Jocelyn inhaled sharply before responding, the tension recoiling like a whip, Clary's sure sign that she _did_ know something.

"There's something going on in Idris. They've spotted some … Forsaken." Jocelyn seemed hesitant to divulge the information, but had promised her daughter that she would be more upfront with Clary. Part of that agreement, of course, was that the information highway go both ways.

"Forsaken? In Idris?" Clary knew there was more information that Jocelyn wasn't telling her.

"Yes, that's the point behind the Council meeting. They need to determine their plan of action to take care of the Forsaken. There's a depleted number of Shadowhunters currently in Idris, and though the Forsaken haven't made their way into the city yet, there seems to be a steady stream of them coming through an unidentified portal."

Clary knew as well and her mother who was likely behind the attack, but they didn't dare say it out loud. Thankfully, they were almost to the door of the kitchen, and voices could already be heard from inside … _arguing_.

Clary made it a point to emphasize each footstep, in hopes that Isabelle and Jace would stop bickering before she and Jocelyn reached the room. It seemed to work, because the room fell silent.

Jace poked his head through the door, smiling at the approaching women.

"Here, let me take that," Jace offered as he took the bags of takeout from Jocelyn's grasp. Clary was thankful that he seemed to be back to himself with no signs of a hangover.

"Err, uh, thank you, Jace." Jocelyn smiled and followed him into the kitchen with Clary on their heels.

Jace set down the food in the middle of the table and everyone started digging out their various Styrofoam containers from the bags.

"Thank you for dinner, Miss Fray." Jace was really laying on the charm tonight. Isabelle muttered a 'thanks' and dug into her food. Clary caught her eye across the table and both the girls quickly looked away.

At least five minutes had passed in awkward silence—everyone seeming too engrossed in their food to speak—before someone spoke up.

"How is the wedding planning going, Mom?" This was a topic that Jocelyn hated to be bothered about since the night of the ritual, and Clary knew it. Still, she felt the need to press the issue for both her mother's and Luke's sake.

Jocelyn sat up straighter in her chair. Her lips formed a thin line as she regarded her daughter. "You know that we've halted the plans until we see how everything plays out. It's just not the right time for a wedding."

"So, when _will_ it be a good time?" Clary wouldn't let her get off that easy.

"When things settle down, like I've said." A younger Clary would have immediately shut up hearing the tone of her mother's voice, but Clary was older—and she hoped, wiser.

"Mom, if the last several months are any indication, things are _never_ going to settle down. There will be no 'right time' unless you make one. It's not like it has to be a big ceremony or anything. You guys could just go to Vegas."

"You sound just like Luke."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

"Speaking of Luke, does he know anything about this meeting?" Jace was the one to interrupt.

Jocelyn turned to face him. "Yes, he does have a few details, but nothing concrete. He'll be coming by here on our way out, so I'm sure he'll fill us in on any new information he has."

"Does it have to do with Sebastian?" The question came from Isabelle. Jocelyn winced slightly at the mention of the name.

"Right now, the assumption is that anything unusual has to do with Jonathon." She said his name stoically, as if it held no meaning for her. Jocelyn always referred to him as Jonathon. She had only ever known him as Jonathon, her demon child, not Sebastian.

Everyone nodded in agreement.

Awkward silence ensued once more.

"Well, I think a Vegas wedding would be fantastic. All the lights and the fanfare." Isabelle's eyes seemed to glow, lost in thought.

"I agree. Besides, if you guys don't get married soon, I doubt I'll fit into my bridesmaid dress."

"Why? You pregnant?" Isabelle dropped this bomb of a question like it was normal dinner chat instead of the nuclear explosion that it was.

Jace spit out his coke, spraying Isabelle across from the table. Clary turned so red, she was nearly purple. Her mouth opened and closed, trying to form a sentence, but failing miserably. Jocelyn choked on her bite of pancakes, coughing and wheezing while eyeing Jace and Clary with large eyes.

Finally, Clary managed to get her brain to work. "I. Am. Not. Pregnant. Jeez, Isabelle, why would you say something like that? All I meant is that I've grown an inch, and training has changed the way my clothes fit. Again," Clary pointed to herself, "not pregnant."

Isabelle just shrugged, trying to stop the smile that tugged at the corner of her lips. She took her napkin and calmly wiped herself off, appearing completely unaffected by the sticky coke now matted in her hair and clinging to her skin. Everyone's reaction to her comment was worth it, in her eyes.

Isabelle excused herself, thanking Jocelyn for dinner and declaring she was going to take a shower. Clary pushed her half-eaten plate of pancakes away. She had lost her appetite.

Jace made himself busy by wiping up the wood table, trying to clean up his coke. He was so intent on this task, Clary wondered if he might just rub off the first few coats of varnish.

"That girl is so much like her mother when she was her age," Jocelyn declared with a laugh.

Clary and Jace both looked up in surprise. She was … _laughing_.

"Maryse knew just what to say to put everyone on edge, right before she made her exit. It was a talent, really. Once she met Robert, though, she became much more serious. Something seemed to fundamentally change. I suspect it was Valentine's influence. There was no time, in his eyes, for frivolity." Jocelyn's voice had taken on a different quality, her vision seeming to cloud as she spoke. It was as if she was no longer eating dinner at the Institute, but was back in Idris in the Circle.

Her eyes locked on Jace. "Did Clary ever tell you that I heard you crying one night? That I had thought it was Jonathon, but followed the cries down into the passageways that connected the Fairchild manor to the Wayland manor?" Jace shook his head from side to side. "I found you, just a tiny little thing in a dirty blanket, crying out for comfort. You instantly calmed as soon as I picked you up." Jocelyn smiled at the memory. "I should have taken you then, but I was too afraid. For that, I am sorry. Knowing what I know now, I wonder if I could have saved you from his influence."

Jace looked up at Clary's mother, his brows pinched together, unsure how to respond. For once, he seemed all out of quick-witted comebacks. "No, I didn't know, but there's no reason to apologize. In fact, I'm thankful you left me in that tunnel. If you had taken me, Clary probably wouldn't be here."

Clary felt her heart beat quicken and her cheeks flood with heat. Jocelyn was about to reply, when Luke appeared in the doorway.

Just from one look at his face, everyone knew the news wasn't good.

* * *

**Sorry for the cliffy, guys. I really am, but this chapter would have been excruciatingly long unless I found a cut-off point.  
**

**In between posting, I have some stories that I've been really enjoying that you might want to check out. All TMI fan fiction.**

**The first is Half Truths, by Purrina57. Awesome story with quick updates, totally AU and futuristic. Very steamy.**

**The next is City of Shadows, by beautilation. Really interesting AU with a bad-ass Clary.**


	6. Chapter 6

**This took a little longer than expected, but here it is. I wanted to get further along in the plot, but the next chapter should make up for that. Thanks to Elena for your review. I still haven't had my baby yet. Not sure if updates will be closer together or further apart once he arrives.**

**As usual, all mistakes are mine as this is un-beta'd. Enjoy**

* * *

A Nice Day for a Battle ... or a Wedding

"What's happened?" Jocelyn was the first to speak.

"The Forsakens' numbers are growing. Warlocks have been unable to close the portal in Idris. They have already breached Brocelind Forest and are making their way toward the city—"

"—but the wards, won't they …" Clary began.

"The wards only keep out demons, and Forsaken aren't demons. Besides, if Sebastian is the one who is behind this, he's fully capable of taking down the wards." Clary chewed nervously on her lip as Luke continued. "The Shadowhunters in Idris are overwhelmed, in more ways than one." Luke seemed hesitant to continue for a moment—his eyes locking with Jocelyn as they shared a silent conversation. "Some of the Forsaken looked … _familiar_ to the Shadowhunters there. More specifically, two have been reported to clearly resemble former members of the Circle who haven't been seen since the Uprising."

"So, some of the Forsaken are former Shadowhunters? How is that even possible if they are able to bear the marks of the Angel?" Jace was at a loss, but the wheels were already turning for Clary. Jace had still been under Sebastian's influence the night of the ritual. Details were slightly blurry for him, but Clary witnessed Amatis drink from the Infernal Cup and watched as her angelic runes were erased from her flesh. It was the same for all the Shadowhunters who drank from the cup. They were no longer able to bear the Angel's marks.

"Someone is taking Sebastian's demon Shadowhunters and marking them with runes." Clary's voice was barely more than a whisper, but she knew she was right.

"Yes, though the Clave still believes that Sebastian is behind this. They think perhaps this is his way to cull a few … _undesirables_ among his ranks. They were more dangerous than normal Forsaken, their former training seeming to influence their fighting even in their mindless state. The part that directly involves us," Luke paused for emphasis, "—_all_ of us—is that the Clave has decided to send a large number of Shadowhunters and downworlders to Idris to take care of the Forsaken. Due to the urgency of the mission, most of the Shadowhunters that will be making the journey are the ones here at this Institute. Magnus has agreed to open a portal outside the Institute for them to travel to Idris at noon tomorrow."

"How many are leaving the Institute?" Jocelyn asked.

"Nearly fifty."

"But that will leave only twenty Shadowhunters here at the Institute, and many of them children. It won't be safe for the children here. What if this is all some sort of diversion to get to Clary and Jace?" Jocelyn was clearly getting more and more hysterical by the second. Luke put a calming hand on her shoulder.

"That was my concern as well, and Maryse and I voiced as much. We didn't realize that there initial intention was to have Clary and Jace there, in Idris."

"What?!" If Jocelyn was on edge before, she was livid now.

"Calm down, Jocelyn. We've come to a compromise, though it's still less than ideal. The Clave knows that Sebastian wants Clary and Jace by his side and thought that their presence there would lure him out into the open. Jia, myself, Maryse, and a host of others spoke out against putting them in danger like that, especially considering Clary hasn't finished her training yet."

Jocelyn breathed a sigh of relief, slumping back in her chair, while Jace and Clary were slightly miffed at being referred to as children. After all, they had saved the world once before … with a _little_ help.

"They agreed to let Clary stay, but insisted that Jace be there in Idris." Luke turned his attention to Jace. "Jace, you know Sebastian better than anyone else, especially in terms of his fighting style. Maryse wasn't very happy about the Council's decision, but everyone has agreed that your protection is of the highest importance. There will be a small contingent of people whose task is solely your protection."

"That's alright. I can take care of myself." Jace had a hard look of determination on his face. Battle was something he lived for, and Clary knew that regardless of what she said, she would never be able to keep him out of the fight. It was pointless to even ask.

Still, her anxiety level was already beginning to spike. "So what am I supposed to do? Just stay here and pretend like a huge battle isn't happening involving several of my loved ones."

"No, we need to leave town. I agree with your mother. The Institute will not be safe. As Jocelyn said, this could just be one big diversion to get to you by emptying the Institute of Shadowhunters and leaving you vulnerable. I just have no idea where to go. My apartment isn't safe, and neither is my house up state."

The mental light bulb clicked on in Clary's head. "I've got it. I know where we can go, and no one will expect it."

"Where?" Jocelyn and Luke asked simultaneously.

"Vegas, for your wedding."

Before Clary could finish her sentence, Jocelyn was already shaking her head, muttering 'no' under her breath. Luke looked like he was actually considering the idea.

Jocelyn noticed his silence. "Luke, tell Clary that it's a horrible idea. We can't be celebrating a wedding while a battle is going on. It's not right."

"You're right, Mom, which makes it the perfect thing to do. No one would expect it, not in a million years," Clary added.

"She does have a point, Jocelyn."

"_No_. You can't gang up on me like this. Luke, it's a terrible idea."

"With all due respect Ms. Fray, this is probably the start of what will be a very bloody war with many casualties. There's no guarantee that we'll all make it out of this alive. Would you rather go down in history as the widow of Valentine Morgenstern, or the wife of Lucian Graymark?"

Clary is shocked by Jace's boldness, especially when he seemed to be trying his best to suck up to her mom just an hour ago. His statement rendered Jocelyn silent.

Clary's mother and Luke stared at each other for what seemed like forever, the intensity of their gaze making it uncomfortable for everyone else in the room.

Luke was the first to speak up, the wheels in his mind already making plans. "If we're going to do this, we'll need more protection. Numbers. Wards. Weapons. I won't have Clary out in the open with just the two of us to guard her."

Jace nodded his head. "Isabelle should go with you. I don't really like the idea of her being practically alone in the Institute if Sebastian decides to attack."

"Simon would come. I know he would."

"That's still not enough." It was clear Jocelyn wanted an army of her own to protect her daughter.

"No, I think that will be just fine. Too many, and the large number might attract unwanted attention as we'll have to purchase our tickets immediately. Purchasing several tickets for a flight from New York to Vegas all within a few hours of each other would be a dead giveaway to anyone who's looking." Luke was great at strategy, examining all angles and making sure there were no loose ends.

"All the more reason to get Simon on board. He's a computer nerd. I'm sure he can find a way to make sure the purchased tickets don't all come back to the same computer."

"It would be best if all communication about our trip be done in person. I wouldn't trust anything by phone. Can Simon meet us somewhere, perhaps? I know he can't set foot in the Institute besides the Sanctuary, and there's probably still some people milling around in there after the meeting."

"Well, I'll have to call him to get him to meet us. Where should we go?" Clary asked.

"Maybe an internet cafe? Do they still have those?" This was Luke's suggestion, and it made perfect sense. They would have to check the flight information, and an internet café would be much more anonymous than, say, the Institute's dinosaur of a computer.

Jace rose from his chair. "Well, I guess I should go find Isabelle and make sure she's willing to go with you, though I'm pretty sure she won't pass up an opportunity to go to Vegas … for a wedding." He made his way over to Clary, bending down and tucking her wild hair behind her ear before placing a chaste kiss on her cheek. Clary felt a few strands tug loose from her scalp and winced. She hadn't bothered to brush out her damp curls after her shower, and her hair was a tangled mess.

Luke caught Jace's arm before he could leave. "Please make sure she doesn't tell anyone our plans. Only Maryse, as she'll obviously have to get permission to leave the state. The less people who know, the safer things will be." Jace just nodded before leaving, his eyes finding Clary's before he disappeared into the hallway.

Jace was already thinking of his impending separation from Clary. It was a thought that made his chest tighten. Only the thought of an upcoming battle tempered his resolve. It had been too long since he had a good fight.

He hoped Sebastian would be there in Idris. His mind was already playing out scenarios of going against him in single combat. Though, if what Luke said was true, he likely wouldn't get the opportunity to go against Sebastian single-handed, without his 'babysitters.' Jace wanted it to be _his_ hand that drove the blade through the demon's chest. _He_ wanted to be the one to watch every last breath of life drain from his body. Sebastian had taken so much from him already. He took Max, shattering their family in the wake of his death. He nearly killed Isabelle. He captured Jace's will, used him to strengthen his own evil plan—kept him a prisoner in his own body. And what he did to Clary—would have done if she weren't strong enough to stop him. He would end him for that reason alone.

Jace took a few calming breaths before knocking on Isabelle's door. The door opened and Isabelle looked up at him with an expectant gaze.

"You wanna go to Vegas?"

"Clary convinced her mom to go ahead with the wedding?" Isabelle's eyebrows darted up in shock.

"Yes, though she had a little help from an army of Forsaken currently descending on Idris."

"What the—"

"Long story short, Alec and I will be going to Idris along with most of the adult Shadowhunters in the Institute to deal with the Forsaken, which seem to be linked to Sebastian. Clary, her mother, Luke, you, and Simon will be heading to Vegas tomorrow morning just in case Sebastian decides to show up here, instead, for a little surprise. So, I guess you'll want to start packing. I'll send Clary to get you when they figure out where they are meeting to finalize the plans tonight. Oh, and don't tell anyone. I'll talk to Mom about it."

Isabelle caught Jace's arm as he was turning to leave. "She doesn't know?"

"About going to Vegas? No. About the Forsaken? Of course."

Isabelle nodded more to herself than Jace, and closed the door, leaving him in the hallway alone. He really hadn't meant to be short with her … well, actually he _did_. For one, Isabelle wasn't one to drag things out, and two, Jace had someone else he needed to find—make that two someones.

He was in luck. The warlock's glittering spikes were visible above the heads of the remaining people in the Sanctuary. Just to his right, was Maryse.

Jace walked up to Maryse and Magnus, feeling the heat from the several sets of eyes that followed his approach. It wasn't the fact that he was seventeen, still considered a child in Shadowhunter terms and unable to attend Clave meetings, which caused them to stare. Jace's reputation preceded him. He had been at the center of Clave business for the last several months. He was integral to their current situation, too—a thought that caused him to square his shoulders and lift his chin higher when he walked directly through the middle of the room toward his mother and Magnus.

"Jace, we were just finishing up in here. I was about to come find you." Maryse's tone was calm, but her eyes said she didn't appreciate him barging in on a Clave meeting.

"Luke already told me about what's going on. The Forsaken. Leaving for Idris. I actually have something I need to discuss with you." He turned his attention to Magnus, who's perfectly groomed eyebrow rose in a question. "And with you. But not here."

Maryse nodded. "I'll be another ten minutes here, and then we can meet in my office." Maryse looked between her adopted son and the Warlock. "Is that agreeable?" The both nodded, and Jace turned abruptly to leave.

"It's called the Cycle Café. I heard they have awesome sandwiches." Clary knew she didn't sound convincing.

"And you want me to meet you there … _now_?"

"Izzy's coming, too," she offered, hoping Simon's questions would stop.

"O—_kay_. Sure."

"250 West 49th. See you soon."

"Yeah. See you."

Clary headed to Isabelle's room and knocked on the door. She heard a muffled 'come in' and turned the door knob. Isabelle was sitting in front of her vanity, securing her dark hair in a high ponytail. Her eyes met Clary's in the mirror's reflection.

"How long is this meeting going to take? I still have a lot of packing to do."

Clary didn't know whether to roll her eyes and crack a smile. "It shouldn't take long, and you know we're only going to be there one night, right? We're coming back the day after tomorrow."

"Your dress is a copper color, right?"

"Um, yeah."

"Strapless or does it have sleeves?"

"Spaghetti straps. Why?"

"Well I don't want to clash," she offered like it was only obvious. "I have a green satin spaghetti strap dress, tea length. I think it will work. At least, it will have to do. No time for shopping now, even if I got something over-nighted."

"Well, Luke and my mom are probably waiting on us."

Isabelle sighed and quickly added some eyeliner and lipstick before rising from her seat in front of the mirror. She shrugged on a jacket and grabbed a clutch. "Ready."

They all piled into the front cab of Luke's trunk, hips and shoulders shoved together. At least it was a short drive to the café, the streets largely deserted at nine-thirty on a Tuesday evening.

Jace sat in the high-back chair in Maryse's office. Magnus stood in the corner, his face impassive.

"So they're going to Las Vegas?"

Jace sighed. "Yes. They worried that the Forsaken in Idris were just a distraction. A ploy to empty the Institute of Shadowhunters and make those who remained here vulnerable."

"I'm just not sure they'd be any safer in Las Vegas."

Jace turned to Magnus. "That's where you come in."

"I will be in Idris, and though I'm the most gifted warlock there is, I still can't physically be in two places at once."

"But you can teach Clary the wards. You and I both know her abilities with runes extend beyond the angelic type. She's re-opened a portal before. I'm sure she could manage some basic protection wards."

Magnus stroked his chin in thought. "Of course. I'll jot down a few protection wards for her. Consider it done. Now, if you don't have anything else for me. I'll be needing my rest for tomorrow."

"Actually, there's one more thing." Jace pulled something from his pocket. "I need you to do a tracking spell on Clary." He opened his hand to reveal several strands of blood-red hair.

Magnus's lip curled up in a smirk. "Need or want, Jace? You know where she's going."

"Yes, and I want to make sure she stays there."

"I can perform a tracking spell easily enough, but I won't be able to monitor her location during battle. I'm not simply providing transportation to Idris, I will be fighting as well."

"You mean waggling your fingers." Jace waved his hands in the air in front of him.

Magnus shrugged. "Call it what you will, but it's highly effective."

"The Clave appreciates all of your efforts, Magnus," Maryse cut in.

"And I appreciate the handsome repayment for those efforts." Magnus bowed his head slightly, and then turned on his heel to Jace. "I can perform a tracking spell, but only after the battle is over. I suggest you use more mundane methods to keep track on Clary in the meantime. A cell phone, for instance."

"A cell phone won't work in Idris."

"Oh yes, I'd forgotten. Well then, I guess we'll have to deal with the Forsaken quickly."

Jace's eyes sparked with a dim, gold flame, a devilish smirk planted on his face. "That shouldn't be a problem."


End file.
